I believe in ribbons and bows

Today was an odd sort of day. Somehow He pushed right through to show me glimpses of delight and hope.

I was late heading out to work this morning - a slow start at home as I struggled to convince myself I could make it through the day. But once I managed to get going, a strange series of events made me realize that hope does not die without a fight and that she fights with an incredibly beautiful sort of strength.

After having sent my little cry of despair into Cyberspace last night, a sms from my Lucy-friend greeted me this morning, quite simply sending love after having read my blog post. The first whisper today, of His love for a rather wobbly heart.

On driving out of our estate into the main street, I was greeted by a long row of primary school children, clad in clusters of brightly coloured T-shirts (per class, I assumed), making their way to Woodlands Mall. I cried as I watched them skip along holding hands, linking arms, hugging. A reminder of a God who knows each of us so very well, for there is little that brings me as much pleasure as children delighting in life.

A quick stop at Seattles for a cappuccino (working on the irresponsible logic that I was late anyway) saw me ending up with a hugely discounted cappuccino in hand. A third ribbon in a day which had only just begun?

The rest of the day continued somehow to be laced with splashes of ribbon, gently beckoning me to dare life's dance again:

• I was actually given a sneak peak into Facebook stats (I cannot explain the delight this brought heart and mind)
• A perfectly-timed visit to Impact Radio's birthday celebration resulted in a brief connect with Celeste Amy (which made my heart feel as though it might just burst!) and
• What could potentially have been a frustrating flurry of last-minute prep for cell tomorrow, ended up being a collaborative team effort (the folks, Rocco and even Christie) resulting in a beautifully planned Driekie-cupcake and much family fun (dad proved to be the cupcake maestro).
• And on the way back home, after opting for the longer route to allow my song to reach its end, I kept the window down between our estate security gates and smiled as that decision resulted in the smell of Jasmine filling every part of me - almost as if He thought it good to seal the day with one of my favourites.

And so, in response to my rather weary post of last night, He laced my day in ways that seemed to say, ‘I see you. I hear you. I know that you’re there. I’ve got this one, Michelle. I’ve got you.’

An apt response is surely this: to put on my dancing shoes again and head tentatively back to the dance floor. The irony didn’t slip me by, that the act of putting on those dance shoes (at least those of the balerina sort, as in this picture) involves the tying of a ribbon.

And with that, I choose to believe in ribbons and bows. I choose, again, to believe there’s more to life.

Fighting the urge to run

This dance is tough! And I find myself fighting the urge to hang up my dancing shoes and 'call it a day'.

Dreary as this may sound (sorry, pink happiness blog), it wouldn't feel authentic if I pretended to be feeling any other way. 

I'm struggling. My heart is struggling to manage the number of disappointments it's being called on to contend with, and it doesn't quite know where next to step.

I recently read a quote, Life is not tied with a bow, but still, it is a gift. - Regina Bret.

I understand that life seldom turns out the way we anticipate it might and readily agree with the fact that even when it doesn't, the mere privilege of being alive is indeed a precious gift. Absolutely so! The snag is, I really want to believe in bows. I want to delight in finding ribbons along the way. I want to believe that there's more.

My heart's struggling to hear the melody.

I'm struggling to dance.

My August Rush_2012

Walking the line

Today marked the instilling of a tradition that is now officially in place. I've settled on a name for the idea I blogged about a while back: My August Rush - that time, between 5 and 15 August, during which I resolve to do something that feels insanely scary, unnervingly out of my comfort zone and almost impossible - to serve as reminder of His undeserved grace and unwavering faithfulness. An 'active altar', as it were, of celebration and praise for the difficulties He has safely seen me through.

My August Rush for 2012: Braving the Burma Bridge. And what a significant crossing it turned out to be.

On arrival, we discovered that the valley over which the bridge crosses is called King’s Kloof, which added to the significance of making it from one side to the other safely in the hands of The King. 

Last month I found this image and felt it indicative of the next season in my life’s journey: A season that might feel much like walking a tightrope. He was the rock beneath me in the valley (the place of deepest despair that, over time, became a place of rediscovery and nurtured growth) and He shall be the rails during the tightrope season.

With this image in heart and mind, imagine my delight when Rocco (without being aware of any tightrope analogies) suggested the Burma Bridge as an option for my first August Rush! It was a done deal – instantly.

And as I crossed over King’s Kloof, precariously swaying every time the wind blew, the exhilaration and satisfaction I felt is almost impossible to explain. And though rather frightening an experience… I was doing it!

And so, at the end of today, I’d like to remember last year's trip to Willow Creek USA and thank Him for going ahead of me to prepare things in such a way that enabled me to make it 'there and back' during a time I felt convinced it was humanly impossible.

How apt, to have 'Braved the Burma' on the very day that GLS 2012 was launched in Illinois.

The Burma Bridge is a hanging bridge, consisting of a 4- cable system, 120m across the King’s Kloof Valley and approximately 60m high above the ground. It consists of a bottom cable which you walk on, connected to two cables which are ‘hand rails’ and wearing a harness, you are connected to a cable above your head. Even the slightest breeze has you wobbling precariously over to the one side.The famous words ‘don’t look down’ are totally negated here, as you have to concentrate on placing your feet neatly on the bottom cable, while staring wide-eyed down at the potential plunge.

Snow's delight

Captured by an obviously-brilliant photographer: Snow | Johannesburg Zoo

It snowed in Gauteng yesterday!
                ... and I almost forgot to record it.

Heavier snow in Johannesburg than Pretoria, but we were delighted with a few happy flakes of our own. As expected, the snow magnetically pulled us outdoors (spot the South Africans ;) and we found ourselves happily huddled outside for a wee-while, delighting in the dainty flakes that quietly settled on our clothes.

Though my heart has danced in snow before (sledging in Devon, skiing in Germany and braving a braai in the gardens of Lee Abbey, London) it somehow seems a little more magical experiencing snow in South Africa. Perhaps the uniqueness of it makes the wonder ever-so-much more beautiful – a welcome visitor to a foreign land.

I was just under six years old when I last experienced snow in Gauteng. I remember dad and mom excitedly gathering their trio and rushing off to Jo’burg with the Dorans (records have it as 10 September 1981). There’s been snow since (apparently June 2007) but I missed that one, for some reason.

Facts aside though, yesterday’s splash of snow certainly managed to delight the heart. And surely that alone, makes it worth recording.

My Annual August Adventure list

On 5 August 2011, I boarded a flight to America: Trip Willow Creek. It should’ve been the trip of a lifetime – an absolute dream come true. And in many ways it was indeed a trip I shall never forget. It came at a tricky time though: A short time after it felt as though the world’s rug had been pulled from underneath my feet. A time during which all illusions of living the reality of a quote I recorded many years ago, seemed an entirely absurd thing to do: Instead of seeing the rug being pulled from underneath our feet, we can learn to dance on a shifting carpet. (How ridiculous the quote suddenly became).

Almost a year later, I realize how quickly - in some ways - time seems to have passed. While in others, it seems as though there were moments it had frozen in some dismal place of emotional disarray. Regardless the pace, though, I stand amazed at the depth of what has happened in the space of a year. Most of the change (or at least, the significant sort), having taken place on the inside of me. Sure – I’m not ‘through the woods’ just yet but I’m still breathing. I’m still standing. And I think I’ve still somehow managed to hold onto hope (however loosely the grip may seem at times).

I could hardly sleep on 4 August 2011, the night before my trip. Truth be told, I hadn’t been sleeping much since mid-July (and I hadn’t realized, at the time, that there’d be many more sleepless nights to follow) but this specific cause of insomnia was slightly different: It was an insomnia of the ‘What on earth are you doing, Michelle?’ sort; the ‘You don’t have what it takes to make it to America and back right now. What are you thinking?’ sort. That brick of anxiety that weighs as heavily on the heart and mind as your reserve is able to keep at bay… and when your reserve is at its lowest, the weight is at its heaviest (until we realize that His faithful hand has been underneath the brick all along).

The point is – I made the trip. I did it! I went to America, somehow floundered through the days, and got back home largely unscathed (and in some ways, richer for the experience).

So, in celebration and thanks, I have a rather intriguing (dare I say fun) idea. One that I am hoping will serve as a reminder of His undeserved grace, His unfailing love, His incomprehensible peace and His unwavering faithfulness: Every year, between 5 and 15 August (the time during which I was away), I resolve to do something that I feel almost certain I am unable to do. Something a little scary, something out of my comfort zone, something that keeps me awake the night before (as result of wondering whether I have what it takes). Something that makes me feel just a little bit anxious.

This is not to be confused with my bucket list, which – though certain items are indeed a little scary – is largely a list of complete delight and wonder. No. This is a ‘Phew – this is just too far out of my comfort zone' list (within reason of physical survival, of course). A list that could range from anything as seemingly insignificant as wearing that ‘heeled boots and shift dress’ outfit Pam always tries to persuade me to wear (hugely uncomfortable in the world of Michelle and definitely not something that would ever appear on my bucket list)… to paragliding (eek!!)

I am strangely excited. I have a few days to pick my 2012 August feat and have a number of (rather daunting) ideas whizzing through my mind. By that time, I also need to have come up with a decent name to call this list (for it cannot be given just any old name).

And so I have found I can smile at this quote again: Instead of seeing the rug being pulled from underneath our feet, we can learn to dance on a shifting carpet. Only, this time, I can bear testimony to the words.

The banana of trust

'There is no force on earth more powerful than love. If we don't get anything else right - let's be loving.' - Nancy Beach, News Girls Conference 2012

I serve a God of small things. A God who is to be found in every corner of my world - every nook and cranny. More, perhaps, because He knows how much I delight in finding Him there, though I do like to think Father takes pleasure in our delight too (after all, which Father wouldn’t).

The thing that makes this God all the more beautiful, is that He is also to be found in the majestically enormous – for He knows that sometimes He needs to speak loudly; He knows that sometimes we just don't stop along the way to examine the daisies.

Last weekend was one in which I found God in the small things: Ingrid opened the News Girls Conference by mentioning her sense of Father wanting to dance with us (that’s one of my words for the year); Nancy emphasized how Christ longs for us to flourish (that’s the word Alta painted for me during February); and she touched on finding our unique mission and guarding our hearts (exactly what He’s been nudging me about for the past couple of weeks).

Just when I thought that these - amongst others - were by far too beautiful a confirmation of what He is highlighting and underlining for this part of my journey, we went for lunch ...

... and when I opened my brown paper bag and discovered the word ‘trust’ written on my banana, my spirit almost laughed out loud, for at that moment the inside of me knew what it meant to dance. 

There are too many News Girls nuggets to commit to a single blog entry but the greatest, perhaps, is the reassurance that He is a God who knows each of us by name. He is a God who is big enough – and small enough – to take care of everything. He can be trusted with my one and only life ... even though I still sometimes wonder if I can trust myself with it (or at least, the decisions that living it requires of me).

And the most beautiful part of the weekend, to me, was the encouragement to follow our God in doing what He does best - loving. 

Of Bublé and Bucket Lists

Crazy Love Tour | 2 May 2012

Michael Bublé | Crazy Love Tour | 2 May 2012

Showmanship at its best. Awe-inspiring brilliance and a man of utter charisma.
Ever dreamed about something and then found ‘the real thing’ a thousand times better than any version of that dream? That, dear blog, was experiencing Michael Bublé in person.

His support act, Naturally 7, was an insanely brilliant start – an utter surprise. Seven musicians who mimic the sounds of different instruments using nothing but their voices. Three songs in and the house had already erupted into cheers and a standing ovation.

And just when you were left with that satisfied feeling of already having received your money’s worth … enter The Bublé: As expected, he started with a bang! And as the concert progressed, every time I thought the audience couldn’t possibly get any louder (ever heard 5000 people sound like 10000?), we somehow managed to become exactly that. Me – with Bublé in sight and a perfect view of the pianist’s hands (double bucket list tick!) – I could do little more than watch (and listen) in mesmerised awe.

Michael Bublé has completely perfected his art: every move, every note, every nuance, every creative idea. And yet, the man manages to remain wonderfully appreciative of his fans and orchestra – both whom he readily admits he would be nothing without.

The thing that was perhaps most unexpected – the magic that quite simply took my breath away – was the way he chose to bring his concert to a close. A trumpeter draws attention away from centre stage by playing a solo from amidst the crowd. The spotlight brings us back to a lone Bublé standing in front of lowered curtains and, with no amplification, he projects his voice across the audience and sings the final verse of the song with only the piano as accompaniment (amplification of which is also switched off) ...

... And if you were to close your eyes, you might be left imagining that Michael were singing to you in the comfort of your own living room, with Alan quietly tinkering on keys.

The showman starts by reminding us what a musical force he is to reckon with … and ends by cleverly underlining how personable he remains.

Never could I have dreamed of this bucket list item being ticked off with a feeling of such deep satisfaction.

Grateful

'He suffered so much solely in order to cry out to us that He loves us.' - Charles de Foucauld

Remembering His gift - the ultimate sacrifice - this Easter. How does a heart say thank you?

Feed your passions daily

It’s been ages since I’ve picked up a camera (it shames me to say) and picking one up for a wedding is especially daunting. The fact that I wasn’t the main photographer at Chad and Bianca’s wedding on Saturday helped settle the nerves a little and once I got going, I realized again how much I enjoy being on ‘the shooting side’ of the lens.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said, ‘Do one thing every day that scares you.’ I like the lady. I like her quote. I like the concept. But sometimes, when making it through a day costs more courage than you thought possible to muster; it’s difficult to intentionally pick a scary something beyond that.

When the mountaintop feels somewhat far away, perhaps amending the First Lady’s quote slightly is in order. Because doing something (even just the tiniest something) every day that you’re passionate about (and leaving those scarier feats for a time when one might feel a little more daring) may just be a key ingredient to forward motion. The thing that strengthens us from within and reminds us why it’s important to keep going.

So this little blog entry, a reminder of my resolve to do something – every day – that I feel truly passionate about. Whether it’s hugging a child, dusting off my ‘ideas book’ to delve a little deeper into some of the concepts, having coffee with a friend, reading a book or taking a photo of something beautiful. All of these make me feel a little stronger and add to the delight that life – and living – is.

Thank you, Bianca, for helping me remember. What a privilege to have been part of your special day.

Dancing in the rain

Learning to dance

They make this sound so easy 

They make it seem such fun

Yet at this very moment

I can’t curb the urge to run

Where would I put this clumsy foot

Once it’s lifted off the floor?

Could risking just a single step

Really lead to something more?

  

I used to feel so certain

So happy as I move 

Yet here I am – uncertain

I just. Can’t find. My groove

  

Close your eyes for just a moment

Shift your focus for a while

There’s a partner right beside you

With a reassuring smile

  

Feel the rhythm deep within you

Put the awkwardness aside

Let the music flood your spirit

And prepare to take a stride

  

Breathe

Move a little

Spin around a turn (or two)

Give a little ...           shuffle

  

Free the spirit

It’s easier than you think

  

Uninhibited, Unrestrained

Trust yourself
Now DANCE